I feel a pressure in my stomach and chest and seem unable to catch my breath

From the backyard next door comes the sound
of a woman's laugh, deep in her chest and rolling
like the sound of barrels rolling down the street.
As I guess at her pleasure, the laugh gets deeper.

From where I sit on the back steps, the white walls
of the backyard seem to encage the warm spring air
the way a small wicker box can hold a songbird.
A lemon tree next door hands its fruit over the wall.

And rising high over the wall, the fifty-foot Virgin
perched atop San Cristobal Hill with arms outstretched
seems to be inviting small planes to dance. Oh,
the propeller of pleasure, soft featherbed of blue sky.

I feel a pressure in my stomach and chest and seem
unable to catch my breath. I ask myself, What new
pain is this? Then I realize I am happy. Behind me
out of winter, footsteps wind through dirty snow.

[Stephen Dobyns {1941- }, 'Leaving Winter', from Black Dog, Red Dog: Poems]